Pâtisserie
by Tanahamondo
Summary: Gideon Grey knows who he is. He's the bully, the one who is feared, the one who causes pain. He thought that's what he wanted, but is it? Maybe... maybe he doesn't have to be so broken. Maybe he doesn't have to be feared. Maybe he can add a little sweetness to the world.
1. Shrink

**Heyoooooo everybody! This is my first official Zootopia fanfiction, which is honestly a long time coming. I've been obsessed with this movie since it came out, spending countless hours and $$$ on it. I also have a particular infatuation with the character of Gideon Grey, whom I believe does not get nearly enough love. Despite having very little screentime, like maybe 5 minutes tops, he is very well fleshed out and shows legitimate character growth. He started out as a nasty, temperamental bully who seeks out and antagonizes people who are weaker than him, who he knows he can overpower. And the movie could've left it at that, leaving him as nothing more than a childhood obstacle to Judy. But INSTEAD, the movie acknowledges that he wasn't just an obstacle, he was a living, breathing person who existed outside his narrative function, with his own obstacles he was trying to overcome. So I thought, why not WRITE ABOUT IT!? Also, this story is going to get pretty intense, and may also include some adult stuff later on, (which I probably won't post here). Anyway I have a pretty decent backlog of chapters, which I will be posting every Thursday. So sit tight and hold on to your butts as I present to you, Pâtisserie.**

Chapter 1: Shrink

 _Helga Federkiel, Psy.D._

The name was engraved on the frosted glass door in stark, black font, like the limbs of a burned out tree on top of freshly fallen snow.

 _Dammit_ , thought Gideon, _gotta stop thinkin' abou' such things…_

Gideon stood before the door, silently twiddling with his thumbs, his tail swishing with apprehension as he contemplated if he really wanted to go through with this. The hallway he was currently loitering in had a tacky floral pattern on the carpet, with equally tacky floral wallpaper. It smelled musty and used, like any commercial building from the 1970s. The scent was oddly comforting to the young portly fox, inhaling deeply as he rolled back and forth on the balls of his footpaws.

No one else was around, otherwise he would have never allowed himself to indulge in such a blatant display of weak body language. He was the tough, no nonsense Gideon Grey. The aggressive bully his peers feared upon his arrival. He was dominant, smug, arrogant and self-righteous. That's what everyone expected of him. That's what he expected of himself.

He had been thinking about coming here for quite a long while, always shrugging it off, always thinking it was nonsense. He had snickered along with Travis in the back row of the bleachers during the school assembly on mental health. It was organized by some bs group called the Mammal Suicide Prevention Corps, which consisted of a hideous orange banner with the letters MSPC displayed garishly across it, and a bunch of faux-sincere adults blabbing about how it's OK to ask for help, it's not your fault that you're depressed, our program has helped reduce teen suicide rates by 20%. Travis had called it all bullshit. And Gideon had verbally agreed. But when they mentioned free counseling sessions, something compelled him to sneak a flyer from the display table while Travis wasn't looking. He thought it was stupid. Why would he want to talk to a therapist? He didn't need help.

But every day, Gideon would come across _him_ , and he would look at him from the far end of the classroom, or the library, or during lunch, or in the hallway, and a piece of Gideon would cry out in agony. And then he'd get angry. And then he'd knock over some dumb bunny carrying a stack of books. And then he'd get detention. And then his pa would belt him.

Now, three weeks later, here he was, standing in front of the door of some damned _shrink_. If his pa knew he was here… But he didn't. Gideon's grandfather thought he was in detention, again. Once he got home he'd get the belt again, but a detention whipping was better than any sign of emasculation. His grandfather would probably have a stroke at the thought. Gideon smirked to himself imagining the scenario.

" _My kin seein' a goddamn psych- psycholg- aww fuck it!"_

His pa always struggled with bigger words, and thus Gideon had learned to keep his more poetically inclined musings to himself, among other things. His pa abhorred the very idea of any boy in his family displaying _faggy_ behavior. When he was younger his pa had beat him for offering a bouquet of dandelions to his grandmother. When he cried too loud afterwards he got ten more lashes.

" _Real men don' fuckin' cry!"_ he had said.

And so Gideon had learned not to cry. And he had learned not to pick flowers, or sway his hips when he danced, or go anywhere near the kitchen. He only did 'manly' things, like plowing the cornfield behind his pa's farmhouse, or chopping firewood in the scorching July sun, or planting nighthowler bulbs around the crops, or picking nettles out of the garden without gloves. It didn't matter if it hurt, because real men don't fucking cry. At least not when other mammals are watching.

Finally, Gideon stretched out his paw towards the translucent glass of the door, tapping out a few terse knocks. Almost immediately a cheerful female voice responded with "Come in!" Opening the door, the worn out hinges on the frame softly squeaked as Gideon peeked into the room. It was a decent size, about the same as the principal's office at Bunnyburrow High School, with a hideous green carpet accentuated by an equally hideous beige wallpaper. Bookshelfs covered the wall directly opposite the door, and to his right a red stool, armchair and a red couch circled a glass coffee table. To his left an oak desk littered with papers sat in front of a small window overlooking Bunnyburrow's town square. Sitting at the desk with her myriad quills protruding from her back, a pantsuit wearing middle-aged porcupine observed Gideon over her green half-moon glasses. There was a small smirk on the corner of her muzzle as she took in the sight of Gideon, 16-year-old overweight fox standing in her doorway wearing dirty overalls and looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here. Standing up, her quills shuffling about behind her, she approached Gideon with an outstretched paw.

"I'm Dr. Federkiel, how can I help you?" she asked with a barely discernible German accent. At this moment, Gideon panicked somewhat, not exactly knowing how to respond. Stepping further into the room, he ignored Dr. Federkiel's hand and instead fumbled with his pockets as he pulled out the flyer he'd grabbed from the assembly.

Showing the crumpled paper to the porcupine, he uncharacteristically stammered "Ah-ah-ah ah was here a-a-about the free… uh… sessions…" Although he knew the doctor couldn't see it, he felt his face heat up as he blushed beneath the red fur on his muzzle. Dr. Federkiel took the paper gently from Gideon's slightly trembling paw.

"Oh wonderful!" she exclaimed. "Come in! Come in! Take a seat wherever you like, except for the stools, those are mine." She smirked playfully as she gestured to her quills which made normal chairs unusable to her.

Gideon shuffled over to the red couch, noticing several coffee stains on it's corduroy surface. He plopped down heavily and awkwardly held his hands in his lap. Dr. Federkiel sat on the stool across the coffee table and positively beamed with almost oppressive joy.

"So, I'm assuming you were at one of the MSPC assemblies?" she asked.

Gideon nodded slowly.

"We have many chapters across the Tri-Burrows, but you're the first predator I've ever had walk through my door. What's your name, dear?" she pulled out a notepad and pen from the right side of her suit jacket, crossing her legs as she started to scribble across the paper.

"Uh… G-Gideon, ma'am. Gideon Grey. Bu' most folks jus' call me Gid." Gideon looked at his footpaws as he spoke, avoiding eye contact with the cheerful mammal.

Dr. Federkiel just smiled warmly and said "It's good to meet you, Gideon. Which school do you go to? Bunnyburrow High?" Gideon nodded again.

"Good, good." She got up and walked over to one of the bookshelves, pulling down a large binder labelled 'BBH'. Leafing through the pages she apparently found what she was looking for, as she sat back down across from Gideon and read from the binder.

"Grey, Gideon. 16 years old. Sophomore. History of aggression and bullying. Multiple anger control classes with school counselors. Hmm. Do your grandparents know you're here?" she asked nonchalantly.

Gideon's eyes widened in shock and a little fear as he considered what he should say. He hadn't expected the doctor to have information on him so readily, nor did he expect to be asked if he had parental approval. Dr. Federkiel picked up immediately on his body language and quickly said, "It's okay if they don't, dear. We have a special partnership with your school district. Nothing you say here will go anywhere else unless you threaten to harm yourself or others. Do you understand?" Gideon looked up briefly and locked eyes with the doctor. The empathy he saw there calmed him considerably, and he murmured out a soft acknowledgement.

"Excellent." said Dr. Federkiel. "Now then, what brings you here today, Gideon?"

Again, Gideon didn't quite know how to answer. He knew he wanted to be here, he knew he wanted to talk to someone, but he didn't know why, and he told the doctor exactly that.

"Ah… ah don' rightly know ma'am… Ah guess ah want ya ta fix me."

"Fix you?" Dr. Federkiel looked puzzled. "What do you think needs fixing?"

Seeing the doctor's confused expression, he thought he may have done this all wrong. But despite this he kept on talking, stumbling through his words as Dr. Federkiel started to write into her notepad.

"Ah shit I'm sorry ma'am… Ah guess ah… ahm a very.. angry mammal. Ah get mad all the time. Ah don' wanna hurt nobody. And ah was gittin' purty good at not gittin' too mad. But now ah've been gittin' worse. And ah want ya ta fix me so as ah don' get in more trouble and so my pa won'..." Gideon stopped there, clamping his jaw shut.

Dr. Federkiel paused in her note-taking and glanced up once Gideon stopped talking.

"It's okay, dear." she spoke gently. "I'll do the best I can to 'fix' you as you so aptly put it. Though I'm not entirely sure you're broken to begin with."

Gideon was perplexed. "How can ya be so sure?"

Dr. Federkiel put down her pencil and looked Gideon in the eye as she said, "Well, for starters, why don't you tell me why you think you're getting worse?"

Despite not knowing why he was there to begin with, and despite every impulse telling him to run, Gideon immediately knew the answer.

"It's him."

"Him?" Asked the porcupine, befuddled by Gideon's answer.

"Ya. Him. Bobby Catmull."


	2. Him

**AHAHAHA! Surprise! I wasn't planning on posting chapter 2 so soon, but I thought that since chapter 1 consisted of a whole lot of nothing I should add some meat to the story. Don't get used to this however. From now on imma stick to my strict one-chapter-per-week schedule. Also thank you to everyone who has already liked and followed this story. The fact that you already have faith in me is really reassuring. 3**

 **Anyway, enjoy Chapter 2 of Pâtisserie!**

Chapter 2: Him

Gideon always hated the first day of school. After spending the summer traipsing around the county with Travis, getting into shenanigans and generally not giving a shit about anything, he was once again forced to sit inside the stuffy, claustrophobically crowded white-brick building that passed for Bunnyburrow's center for public education. Or at least, that's what he told himself. In truth Bunnyburrow's public schools were rather sparsely populated considering the ever increasing rabbit population. However most of the lapine families hired private tutors for their unfathomably large litters; most of the kids who used the public school system were either preds, non-lapines, or the children of less affluent rabbit warrens who couldn't afford such large families.

And if Gideon were being completely honest with himself, being in school was preferable to being anywhere near his pa. He had managed to avoid most of the labor his pa tried to force upon him throughout the summer months by sneaking off early in the morning, or on days when his pa was especially shitfaced. Of course, he'd get a beating once he got home, but over the years he'd developed a rather thick hide. Travis never asked about the scars barely visible under the russet fur on his back, because Travis knew Gideon's tells more than anyone; he knew there were some things better left alone.

Travis was currently sitting next to Gideon in the back row of the classroom, the black-footed ferret's slender frame ridiculously small in the large desk he tried to occupy. Although they had both grown substantially over the summer, Gideon had grown at least a full two heads taller. Despite this, Gideon's desk was also slightly too tall for him. The classroom was organized with the smaller desks in the front for the shorter mammals, and the larger ones in the back. Being the first ones to arrive the two friends had claimed the prime real estate at the very back of the room, furthest from the stern-looking black-wooled sheep who was apparently their homeroom teacher.

Their class had slowly filled with mammals of various sizes, from a vertically challenged raccoon named Gary who nearly pissed himself once he saw Gideon in his homeroom, to a tall grey cougar whom Gideon didn't recognize. The cougar in question stumbled a bit when he walked into the room, resulting in a few snickers from his classmates. Then he awkwardly positioned himself in a chair that was far to short to accommodate his long legs. Gideon found this mildly amusing, and noted that the cougar did look vaguely familiar, though he still couldn't place a name to the face. The rest of the class was made up of several lemmings, a stag with newly acquired albeit stubby antlers, some prairie dogs and a fair number of rabbits.

"All right, all right." the sheep at the head of the classroom spoke up finally. She was wearing what appeared to be a silk white blouse with a green cotton plaid skirt. Her eyes pierced into the crowd with an air of distrust.

"Looks like we got stuck with a bitch." whispered Travis under his breath. Gideon chuckled softly in response.

"I am Ms. Langley, your homeroom teacher." She glanced furtively at the various students in front of her.

"First thing's first, don't get too cozy where you are. We will be following a seating chart in this class. Speaking of, this class is meant to help you familiarize yourselves with the schedule for the day, school announcements, and acquiring some much needed organizational skills." She looked around someone disdainfully at what she apparently deemed to be slovenly youths.

 _The untempered flea, convinced of its own delusions of ascendancy, pontificated to an indifferent assembly._

Smiling to himself Gideon scoffed at her austerity.

"This class," she continued, "is NOT a free period to catch up on forgotten homework or to socialize."

There was a quiet collective groan amongst the students, apparently none too thrilled to be at the mercy of a homeroom teacher with authoritarian delusions. Travis elbowed Gideon in the side, shooting himself with a finger gun when Gideon turned to look at him.

"Now that we've got that out of the way," Ms. Langley said as she walked to her desk, "here is your seating chart. Please follow it accordingly."

Pressing a button on her desktop computer, the projector turned on and displayed an image of various sized boxes with a single name in each. From the back of the room Gideon and Travis had to squint to read the small text, their faces falling when they noticed their new seating arrangements. Travis had been placed in the third row from the front, while Gideon the second from the back.

"This sucks." murmured Travis.

"Shoulda thoughta that 'afore you became a ferret." Gideon responded, lightly punching Travis in the back as he walked away.

The entire class shared in a mutually irritated sigh as they all shuffled around to their new desks. Upon reaching his, however, Gideon noted that given his substantial girth, he'd have a hard time squeezing into his desk. He attempted to anyway, sucking in his gut and trying to shimmy his way into his chair. Once he managed to slip his plush tail through the hole in the back of his seat, he tried and failed to relax, feeling very uncomfortable with his stomach pressing into the edge of his desk.

 _Shit_ , he thought as he tried repositioning himself, scraping the desk audibly across the concrete floor and causing multiple heads to turn, including Ms. Langley's.

 _SHIT._

"Is there a problem Mr… Grey?" she said after a brief pause while she read the name on the seating chart.

"Not at all ma'am." Gideon huffed out impatiently, still trying to find some semblance of comfort in his straightjacket of a desk.

"It's because he's too fat to fit in the desk!" shouted out Gary from the front row, eliciting immediate laughter from his peers. Gideon stared daggers into the raccoon, quickly snuffing out his goofy expression. Gary visibly gulped.

And then a soft voice Gideon didn't recognize spoke up behind him.

"Gideon can have the desk next to me. Kayla moved away over the summer and it should be big enough."

Turning his head Gideon looked at who had spoken and inadvertently called him fat as well. The words had apparently come from the same lanky cougar that had tripped over his own legs.

"Very well." said Ms. Langley. "Mr. Grey, you can take the desk next to Mr. Catmull."

 _Catmull? Bobby Catmull?_

Gideon looked again at the tall cat who was apparently his new neighbor. He looked almost nothing like the pathetic twerp Gideon had pushed around the past 7 or so years. This was the same cat that did the stupid one man band for the talent show last year? As Gideon shuffled over to his new seat, he looked closer at the cougar's muzzle, finally recognizing the same naive brown eyes and stupid grin he'd had when he was half his current size.

Grunting as he slumped into his chair, Gideon refused to make eye contact with Bobby when he said "Hey Gid." He simply muttered a "don't fuckin' talk tah me" and turned away.

However, as the 30-minute period wore on, Gideon continued to take furtive glances at the cat, still finding it hard to believe that this was the same mammal he'd regularly stolen almond milk from when they were in elementary school. He started to notice things… interesting. Bobby's once round face had become accentuated with a more visible jawline, and the rest of his body had also abandoned the curvier days of his childhood in place of a more angular construction. His whiskers had darkened as well, prominently jutting out from the space between his nose and mouth. His fur, which had looked grey from afar, was up close more visibly sprinkled with hints of tan, and it was noticeably less fluffy and more glossy than it had been. In fact, when Gideon inhaled through his canid nose, he could even detect hints of the cat's _damn shampoo_. It was a flowery scent, lilac probably.

 _Fag,_ thought Gideon.

He tried to focus on what Ms. Langely was droning on about, but his attention continued to be drawn back to the cougar. Finally, the bell rang for them to head to their first period, and Gideon hastily ran out of the class and into the quickly filling hallway, catching up to Travis who had gotten out even faster.

"What a grade-A bitch." said Travis as they walked side by side down the hall. Gideon nodded absentmindedly, still distracted by thoughts of lilacs and speckled fur.

"She's a fuckin' homeroom teacher, not the fuckin' president." Travis continued, not noticing that Gideon was only halfway with him. He did notice eventually.

"Dude, what's up with you? Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Yeah… ya ah'm okay." Gideon responded.

Suddenly Travis grinned as he looked over Gideon's shoulder.

"Hey, look who it is," he said as he elbowed Gideon and gestured towards Gary. The raccoon was currently using the drinking fountain across the hallway from them. Gideon and Travis shared a wicked grin as they sauntered over to the raccoon. Walking up to Gary's right side, Travis shoved him straight into Gideon, causing him to stumble and fall face first into Gideon's chest.

"Hey! Watch it loser!" said Gideon in mock surprise. Gary looked up in utter horror at Gideon towering over him, and then turned his head to find Travis behind him, blocking his only escape.

"Gi-Gideon! I didn't mean to, I swear! Someone pushed me!"

"Awww," Gideon crooned in mock sympathy. "It's okay li'l coonboy. Let me help ya up."

Gideon grabbed the raccoon by his waist, hoisting him onto his footpaws. Gary's head barely stood above Gideon's navel. However, before Gary could fully recover from his fall Gideon placed his left footpaw on top of Gary's, letting his full weight press down on the racoon.

"Ow ow ow that hurts!" Gary cried out.

"Oh ah'm awful sorry. Ah guess ah jus' don' know how _heavy_ ah am."

On the word _heavy_ Gideon pressed even harder into Gary's sole, and the raccoon started to tear up as the pain in his footpaw grew. Seeing a teacher approach from down the hall Gideon quickly lifted his weight off of him.

"What's going on here?" inquired the teacher, a ram named Mr. Woolsby wearing a white button up and a tie. Gideon had had a few run-ins with him in the past.

"Nothing Mr. Woolsby." Travis answered. "We're just saying hi to our good friend Gary here."

Mr. Woolsby glanced skeptically between Travis and then Gideon.

"Are you okay?" He asked of Gary.

Gary looked between Gideon and Travis fearfully, before stammering out "Y-yes sir! Just saying hi to some… old friends!" Gary smiled unconvincingly through his teeth.

However, it seemed good enough for Mr. Woolsby.

"Okay, but I'm watching you Gideon Grey." he said before wandering off down the hallway. Gideon mockingly saluted him goodbye, before pulling on the suspenders of his overalls and turning back towards Gary.

"And ah'll be watchin' _you_ , coonboy. Don' ya forget it."

With that Gideon and Travis walked away, leaving Gary to contemplate their threat.

The rest of the day was mostly uneventful. Gideon's first period math class was boring as he expected. Second period English was less so, as he shared this class with Travis and didn't have any assigned seating. Third period was history, which was just as dull if not more so than math. After lunch Gideon had a free study hall period, which he had signed up for instead of an elective. The fox had been interested in some of the programs the school offered, but he feared what his pa would say if he chose something like culinary arts for example.

It was during his study period that he felt a pressure building in his bladder. He got up and started walking towards the door when the teacher, a large bull sitting behind the desk whose name Gideon didn't recall called after him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he said gruffly.

"Ah gotta piss." replied Gideon curtly, causing multiple other students to chuckle. The bull simply huffed out of his nose impatiently and waved Gideon away.

After relieving himself Gideon started to wander around the empty hallways, not caring if a teacher saw him. It was his free period after all.

It was while he was walking down the D-wing of the school building when he heard… something. A gentle yet passionate melody echoed softly through the hall. Gideon faintly recognized the tune but couldn't name it from the top of his head. He followed the noise further down the hall, getting progressively closer to its source. Finally, Gideon reached a slightly ajar door with the words _Orchestra Room_ engraved on the wood surface. Peeking inside, Gideon saw somebody standing alone in the middle of the room, somebody he recognized.

 _Bobby._

His grey tail with flecks of tan flicked back and forth as he held a violin between his chin and shoulder, the bow in his paw sliding back and forth across the instrument. Bobby had been making that music, and Gideon was completely enthralled. The look on Bobby's face was one of complete concentration with traces of bliss, and the cougar's body swayed with the passion of his music. Stepping further into the room, Gideon accidentally knocked over a water bottle that was sitting near the door, startling Bobby and prompting him to stop playing as he spun around quickly.

"Oh! Hi Gideon. I, uh, I didn't expect to see you here." Bobby's voice was just as gentle as his eyes.

 _Why do ah keep thinkin' this shit!?_ Gideon thought, frustrated with himself. Bobby however was visibly flustered.

"I, I'm sorry if I disturbed you. I had a free period and I asked Mr. Hoofston if I could practice in his classroom. He doesn't have a fourth period so he said it was okay…" Bobby trailed off as he looked into Gideon's expressionless face. Gideon wanted to be mad. He should've been mad. This was the cat that called him fat. So he walked up to him and snatched the violin out of his paws. Bobby didn't even fight back.

"Please, Gideon. That was really expensive. I saved up all summer for it." Bobby didn't really act outwardly distressed, but there was a slight desperation in his tone. Gideon could see how his brown eyes revealed his fear, frantically shifting from the violin and back to Gideon's own eyes.

Gideon held the instrument in his paws. It was lighter than he expected. It would probably smash really good against the concrete floor. He knew that's what he should do. He was Gideon Grey. The bully fox.

"You called me fat." he said simply to Bobby, almost as if trying to convince himself that he should be more upset than he was.

"Oh… I'm sorry Gid, I certainly didn't mean to. You can have my leftover lunch if you want. It's in that bag over there." Bobby gestured to a brown paper bag next to the door and the fallen water bottle. "Just, please, can I have my viola back?"

 _Viola?_

Gideon looked down at the instrument in his paws. He didn't know there was a difference between violins and violas. His grip on the neck of the viola tightened. He felt how delicate the varnished wood was; just a little tighter and it would splinter. The cougar audibly gasped.

Looking back at Bobby, he locked eyes with him. Only for a moment. But Gideon saw that he had started crying. Bobby no longer tried to hide his fear. The fear he, Gideon Grey had caused. He'd seen it many times before, but it had never stayed his hand. Now, however, he just couldn't bring himself to follow through with his cruelty. Slowly he stretched out his paws towards Bobby, offering the instrument back to its owner.

"Thank you." Bobby said softly, taking the instrument in one paw and wiping his eyes with the other. He smiled weakly at Gideon.

"Whateveh…" Gideon muttered as he turned around and nearly sprinted out of the room, shocked at his own actions, or rather, his inaction.

Once in the hallway, he stopped and pressed his back against the wall, sliding down to the floor as he sighed deeply. He heard Bobby quietly whisper something to himself, and again felt completely bewildered by what he did, or didn't do. Then, Bobby started playing again.

It was the same song as before. And it was still eerily familiar to Gideon. He could've sworn he'd heard it before.

Bobby played masterfully. The music was almost painfully beautiful, with Bobby adding the perfect amount of vibrato and nuance.

 _The sound of unbridled grace, pure in its quality, meanders through my head like a river towards the endless sea, bound by no force but its own._

Gideon unconsciously smiled to himself at his spontaneous poetry, and even started swaying back and forth with the rhythm of the angelic melody. Then, realizing what he was doing, he scowled and hurried down the hall, turning into the nearest bathroom. He splashed cold water onto his muzzle as he gazed into his blue eyes through the mirror.

 _What the hell?_


	3. Home

**As promised, here is chapter 3 of Pâtisserie! Not much happens in this chapter, but it does help better flesh out Gideon's character. Chapter 4 will be posted next Thursday as per the schedule. Till then my lovelies, follow, favorite, and comment to let me know what you think!**

The absence of light from any of the dusty windows immediately told Gideon that nobody was home.

 _Good._

He was in no mood to deal with his pa at the moment. With his grandma in the hospital his pa had become increasingly belligerent around the household, often inflicting his anger without the need of an excuse.

" _The fuck did ah say abou' keepin' tha floors clean!?"_ he had recently blustered at Gideon, upon somehow finding a small pebble on the splintered wood floors.

" _Ah built this house with mah own two paws! Ah took ya in when no one else would! An' this is how ya repay me? Trackin' in fuckin' rocks n boulders? You piece o' shit faggot."_

Gideon shook his head at the memories as the front steps groaned under his weight. His pa hadn't been lying though; he had indeed built the house himself. When he was younger. And it was obvious.

The single story home was just outside the city limits of Bunnyburrow, falling under county jurisdiction where building codes were somewhat laxer. The outside of the house consisted of sun-bleached dull splintered wood. His pa couldn't afford paint when he built it, and only ever threw on a coat of wood finish when the last one wore off. The foundation was lopsided and the house seemed to lean to one side. And there was a total of 6 windows, two on the front, two on the back, one facing east and one facing west. Each had a cracked pane of glass staring out forlornly into the cornfields like abandoned monocles.

The shingles were made of red clay, and were easily the nicest part of the house, as they were the newest. Gideon should know, he put them there himself over the summer. During a particularly severe thunderstorm a gust of wind had knocked loose some of the old shingles, and the roof had leaked for days afterwards. Gideon had been forced to slave away on that roof, day after day in the boiling sun, ripping out the old shingles and putting in the new ones. He was honestly surprised that his pa had managed to afford the nice looking red clay. Later he had learned it was because he had sold his grandma's armoire.

 _Of fuckin course_ , he had thought at the time.

Stepping into the home, Gideon sighed deeply as he inhaled the scent of dust and whiskey. The house only had 4 rooms. The front room took up half the house and contained the living, dining and kitchen space. The living space had an old-school television set with two antennae sticking out. An ugly brown and orange zig-zag pattern rug occupied the floor between the tv and an equally ugly musty couch with a faded yellow floral pattern. There was also a hearth with a soot-stained brick chimney that was the only source of heat come winter. Then there were two bedrooms, of roughly equal size, separated by a hallway that branched out from the front room. And finally there was a small bathroom at the end of the hallway, with a toilet, a sink, and pathetic excuse for a shower that never ran hot.

Gideon walked down the hallway and into the bedroom on the right. It was his own, modest space, and he flipped the light-switch next to the door, illuminating the humble foxden. His twin bed was shoved into the corner with a red and white patterned quilt draped over it haphazardly along with his unfluffed pillow. Clothing was hanging out of the chest at the end of the bed and was also strewn across the floor, almost as if the chest had vomited the clothes violently throughout the room. There was also a small desk with a lamp next to the bed, and above that Gideon's lonely window. He could see the fronds of the cornfield set ablaze by the golden light of the setting sun, their stalks swaying in the gentle breeze.

Gideon unbuttoned the top of his overalls and the clasp at the base of his tail, shimmying out of the denim contraption and leaving himself in just his white shirt and boxers, his tail twitching at being released from its prison. With a huff he flung himself onto the bed, the springs protesting at his sudden weight. He laid there and stared at the poorly plastered ceiling, thinking of nothing in particular, until his thoughts started to drift to a certain cougar.

 _Fuck_.

He sat up and brought his paws to his face, groaning as he rubbed his temples. Why did the cat bother him so much? Yeah, Bobby had cried, but so what? Tons of the kids he tormented cried. What made this any different? He should've smashed that violin to pieces!

 _Viola_.

"GODDAMMIT!" he shouted in frustration. He was working himself up over nothing. The cat was no different, and he should treat him like any other pussy who had crossed him. He pulled himself to the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck as he made his resolve. He would go back to the music room tomorrow, during free period. He would confront the faggy little musician again. And this time he would shatter the slender instrument right in front of those serene, ochre eyes as he watched them fill with tender tears…

At that thought he shuddered. But now he knew what he had to do, and he would do it. Tomorrow, he would make sure Bobby Catmull knew who he was.

Satisfied with his plan, Gideon stood up and walked over to the chest at the edge of the bed, grunting a bit as he pushed it out of the way. On the spot that the chest had been Gideon wiggled free a couple loose floorboards, revealing a small hidey hole. With his pa gone it seemed like the perfect opportunity to indulge in a little secret pleasure. Reaching into the hole Gideon grasped around for what he was looking for.

 _Yes,_ he thought to himself as he pulled his paw free. The dusty volume he held still had faint glimmers of the gold finish that once embroidered its black bindings.

 _The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Doe_

Normally Gideon was turned off by the typically dour attitude Doe took to his work, but at the moment Gideon was in the mood for something a little more melancholy than Clauser or Lord Bearon would provide. He opened the well used volume to one of his favorite poems and began to read the words out loud softly to himself.

 _For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes,_

 _Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda,_

 _Shall find her own sweet name, that, nestling lies_

 _Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader._

 _Search narrowly the lines! - they hold a treasure_

 _Divine - a talisman - an amulet_

 _That must be worn at heart. Search well the measure -_

 _The words-_

A loud bang broke Gideon of his reverie. The front door had just slammed, and he had been too caught up in Doe's words to hear his pa's old station wagon pulling up to the house. His ears pressed against his head as he scrambled to toss the book into his hidey hole, replacing the floorboards and pushing back the chest just as the door to his room flung open.

"Why the HELL are ya still up!?" he heard his pa bellow as the scent of whiskey met his nose.

It was going to be a long night.


End file.
